ann kiemel

i remember how sober i always felt
when i had a new book coming out.
i was always aware that God would expect
me to live up to every word i had written.
every emotion i had expressed.

yesterday was a long, busy day.
the closer evening came, the more
i tried to talk myself out celebrate recovery.
tired. a hot bath. pick up groceries. and
then, every time that thought came, i remembered
i had just written a blog about going to meetings
you've commited to. and that the worse you feel,
the more blessed you usually will be.

i worked on emails.
made phone calls.
stayed in town until 7 p.m.
when celebrate recovery started. the
first hour is worship and teaching or
a testimony. the second hour is made
of individual groups. different addictions.
food. anger. co-dependancy. drugs and
pills. i've been attending the co-dependant
group. there were maybe ten of us.

my teeth weren't brushed. my hair was
tied back in a ponytail. nothing fresh on.
i walked into a small room. purse slung over
my shoulder. timid. quiet. smiling. blue eyes
cast around the table; checking each woman.
and sharing began.

the woman who lost her son, and found a deeper
walk than she ever imagined with the Lord. another
has four children, with a boyfriend to pay the bills and
children being children. one smoking pot. another sent
off to live with her father. we all had a good laugh over
the woman who has been married 36 years, and can't
stand that her husband follows her around, turning off
the lights after her. i just listened. that is what i needed.
each confession touched me in some special way.

it was almost 10 p.m. when i walked in my front door.
weary....but blessed. restored. so aware of everyone
else's struggles rather than my own. carried beyond myself
to a higher realm where all the other broken people are
trying to make it. with courage. and heart. i fell into
bed so grateful i shoved myself out of panera's to the
celebrate recovery meeting. fighting every darkness
that tried to thwart me. hallelujah. amen.